Tim the Memer
by canadageese
Summary: Tim wanted to be a memer, but he is about to discover that it is not as easy as he thinks.
1. Chapter 1

Yo watsup, my name is Timothy and I'm the main character of this story. This is a story about my life and how I become successful. I hope you find my story entertaining ^_^. I may miss little details here and there and I hope you can forgive me. If you can't, then you can fuck right off. Stupid piece of shit.

When I was in grade 12, I had a discussion with my parents about my future career. It was during a bright Sunday afternoon as I walked into the living room.

"Hey dad, hey mom."

"Sit over there, Tim." said Dad.

"So, have you decided to which university you want to attend next year?" Mom asked as she turned her head toward me.

"Yes, father and mother. After looking at all the offers, I made my decision." I replied. "I decide to go to the Culinary College of Waterloo. My dream is to cook the dankest meme in the world."

"Great decision." Dad replied, nodding his head repeatedly with the speed of 30 km/h. "But Tim, you must realize that cooking memes is essentially the same as serving the people. It is a very difficult career and it will be very tiring. You must be sure you have what it takes to succeed in a very competitive field."

"No problem dad. I ranked first in the latest meme competition in my school. I have what it takes."

"Oh… Tim. I'm just so proud to have you as my son." Dad nodded his head faster at the speed of 50 km/hr.

"I will work hard in the Culinary College of Waterloo." I continued. "So I can get a master's degree…. and even a PhD in Memeology! I will make you proud dad! Just watch me."

Dad was really happy to hear that, as his nodding speed accelerated to 80 km/hr. However, his nodding speed was too fast for a human. So his neck muscle ripped off and he died.

"Wow what a day. I think my husband just died." Mom said.

"I think so" I replied.


	2. Chapter 2

Dad's funeral wasn't big or eventful, but it was definitely unforgettable. It was hosted in the park near our house, attended only by our close relatives. The food there was fantastic.

If I could only describe the appetizer with only one word, that would be pure-delicious. I had chroba. It is a type of soup made with boiled mutton, kidneys, hearts and lungs with additional salt and peppers. The seasoning was pretty strong, but still allowed the tastiness of the meat components to shine separately. Chroba set my expectation for the rest of the meal pretty high, but the ham and cheese sandwich confidently exceeded it. The smoked and seasoned hams were delicately stuffed between soft and milky breads. This allowed me to feel each and every layer of ham as I bit through the sandwich. The portion was small, but it left room for me to enjoy the dessert.

Uncle Jim baked apple pies to cheer me up, and it tasted as excellent as ever. Unlike other pies, the apple flavor was strong and independent, resulting in a very privilaged flavor. After finishing this pie, I knew that I was ready for my first class at the Culinary School of Waterloo next week.


	3. Chapter 3

Today is the day that I have been waiting for a long time, the first day of class at the Culinary School of Waterloo. There are around 1500 freshmen this year, but only 100 students in my classroom right now. This is because MEME131, the mandatory introductory course to memology, is divided into 15 sessions with 100 students each. This will allow the introductory test to be performed easily.

"Hey, what's your name?" Asked a freshman who sat beside me.

"Timothy, Timothy Abdulayev. Nice to meet you" I replied.

"Nice to meet you too. I'm Tahupuriri Wilhelm Rungkangworn. I know what you're gonna ask. I got this name because I'm half German, quarter Thai and quarter Maori."

"I wasn't going to ask you." I replied, irritatedly.

"Why do you want to be a memer, Tim? You know it's one of the hardest profession to get into right?"

"If I give you five bucks, will you fuck off?" I replied.

"I want to be a memer because I want to save my girlfriend from Toxoplasma infection. It is an incurable disease. My girlfriend could no longer afford the pill since the price was hiked by 5000%. At this pace, she will only have 5 years left before the disease kills her. I am planning to work hard and become a professional memer so one day I could afford to cure her."

"K." I replied.

Suddenly a professor walked into the classroom. He is a skinny, middle aged, east asian looking man with a round-shaped glasses. He handed a small piece of paper to each of us, containing two lines: Name 1 and Name 2.

"Good morning students. And welcome to the first class at the Culinary School of Waterloo." Said the professor. His voice is very calm and comforting.

"My name is Daniel Feng, and I am your professor for MEME131. This course will give you an introduction to memology. We will spend the first week reviewing necessary logics and tools to cook successful memes. This will include differential and integral calculus." He continues.

"But first, we will be holding an introductory examination today… Do you know what's the most important aspect to become a successful memer?"

No one answered.

"That's right, it's the intent to kill." Said the professor.

"By the end of this lecture, I would like to reduce the amount of students in this classroom by half. A memer who lacks the ability to kill may be better off dead. I gave each of you a piece of paper. Write down your name next to the 'Name 1' field. After you successfully kill your victim, use his or her blood to write down the 'Name 2' field and hand it back to me… You have one hour, the test starts now. Good luck."

The room suddenly turns into panic. Everyone scrambles around to find anything that could be used as a weapon. Some people tried to get out of the classroom, but the doors have been locked from outside. Since I'm the main character, I don't need to worry about my survival. Tahupuriri, on the other hand, has the worst expression on his face out of anyone in the classroom.

"Honey, what are you doing here!?" Tahupuriri shouted at his girlfriend.

"I also enrolled into this school, dear. Before I die, I want to become a memer." She replied.

"But that's no longer my goal." She continued. "I will eventually die in 5 years, but you won't... Kill me, Tahupuriri. Use my life as a stepping stone so you can survive."

Tahapuriri's girlfriend grabbed his hand and pulls it toward her stomach at the speed of 220 km/hr. She planned commit seppuku using her boyfriend's hand. However, right before Tahapuriri's hand stabs his girlfriend, he collapsed.

"You are just one second too late. I already bit my tongue and I will die soon." Said Tahapuriri. He raised his right hand upward, and suddenly stabbed his stomach with it. His blood flowed all over like a water fountain.

"Use it to write my name… _cough_ … I guess this is a goodbye, dear. I'm sure you will become a professional memer and cure your disease someday."

"No… I can't believe. Don't leave me!" Said his girlfriend. Tahapuriri tips his fedora as he died.

"I'll see you in your funeral." I reply.

Tahapuriri's girlfriend wrote down her boyfriend's name tearfully. As she walked to professor Daniel's desk to hand in the paper, she tripped the floor and died. I wrote down her name instead and handed my paper to him. This is an unpredictable yet masterfully concluded plot twist.

"Congratulations, Tim. You passed." Said the professor.

"Thanks." I replied.


	4. Chapter 4

It has been an hour since professor's Daniel's test started.

"Alright, everyone that's still alive pass the test." Said the professor. The fights suddenly stopped.

"Let's see… I said half of you guys will survive, so I expect that there will be 50 people left. But there're only 34 students alive now. What a bunch of bloodthristy students we have here! This semester is going to be an interesting one." He continued.

"I understand that you guys have been through a lot today, so I'll end the class early this time. Alright, class dismissed!"

Everyone walked out of the room with mixed feelings. We are happy for passing the introductory exam, but we did not expect to pass it at the cost of another person's life. We grabbed a quick lunch before heading to the next class.

"Welcome to MEME230, probability of dankness. My name is Cynthia and I will be your instructor for this course." Said the professor. Since she's a supporting character, she can look like whatever the fuck you want to.

"When memes are freshly cooked, its status will either converge to 'dank' or 'not dank'. As a professional memer, we need to estimate the probability of a meme becoming dank. And we can do that by relying on past data… Today we will start with the simplest prediction method, logistic regression. The formula is exp(a+bX)/(1+exp(a+bX))..."

"Hey, can I borrow your pencil? I used mine to stab my classmate already." Said a girl who sat beside me.

"Sure, you can use mine. I'm not taking notes." I replied.

"What? Don't you know there will be a quiz on this next week?"

"Since when the fuck are you in charge of my life, huh? Either you take my pencil, or you take your ass off that seat and get the fuck out of my life." I replied.

"Sorry.." The girl took my pencil reluctantly and started writing down notes. I shifted my attention back to the professor.

"This formula will not only be useful in this class, but also for exam P." Said the professor.

"What's exam P?" Someone asked the professor.

"Oh right, to enter the professional meming field, one must pass 5 preliminary memial exams under the Society of Memers (SOM) to attain the Associate of Society of Memers (ASM) designation." The professor answered. "After that, one will continue studying for a few more upper level exams to finally achieve the full Fellowship of Society of Memers (FSM) status. Exam P, which stands for probability of dankness, is the first exam that aspiring memers take."

"People usually complete exam P after graduation, but at the Culinary School of Waterloo, we want you to make it by the end of this year." She continued.

"But that's just cruel! The pass rate for exam P is just 40%!" Another student exclaimed.

"Then why do you think you are here, huh!?" Professor Cynthia replied. "You are in the best memeing school in Turkmenistan, and you are already complaining in the first day!? Grow a pair of balls before the workload here eventually washes away a pathetic thing that's called your life."

Professor Cynthia is right. In Turkmenistan, memer is one of the only few promising professions here besides being a doctor or an engineer. This has always been the tradition since we declared independence from the U.S.S.R in 1991. The fact that we already have a chance to study in Ashgabat, the capital city, already proves how competitive we are.

My first step toward becoming a memer is to pass exam P, and I only have 4 months left to do so.


	5. Chapter 5

It has been a month since the first day of class, and today is the first day I will be cooking dank meme professionally. The first person who will be tasting my dank meme is professor Shanazar Niyazov, FSM as a part of DANK101 midterm. Unlike other tests that are done in paper, we need to cook a meme in an hour and present it to him. Professor Shanazar will then either give each meme a pass or fail based on the quality.

"I will be adding one more rule to spice things up." Said professor Shanazar. "You can either skip this midterm and shift all the weight to the final exam. Or, if you choose to write this midterm and pass, you will immediately pass the course."

The room lit up with discussions. Everyone is wondering whether it's worth it to risk everything in this exam. Many of us believe it's better to work hard for the final exam.

"Also, if you fail, one of your arms will be cut off." He continued.

At this point, the room just fell into silent. Losing an arm is too much of a risk for a midterm.

"Tim, would you like to write an exam?" Professor Shanazar asked me.

"I'm thinking about it sir." I replied

"Oh, is it because are you a fucking pussy? You know pussies can't survive in this world right?" Professor immediately talked back. I was triggered at this point.

"Bitch, how dare you call me a fucking pussy? Fine, I will take your fucking test, cunt." I replied.

"I will also take the test too!" Another student stood up.

"You're blocking my view. Who the fuck are you?" I asked.

"Buon giorno! My name is Luigi Hashimotoski. I came all the way from Venice, Italy to enroll in this school. One day I will become the greatest memer in the world!" He replied.

"I hope one day you can shut your whore mouth too." I said.

"So it seems only two students will be taking the test." Professor Shanazar interrupted. "That's fine. You two will be entering the kitchen behind the classroom. Grab a tablet in there, and cook your meme with that. You have an hour. The time starts now!"

I felt frustrated as I walked into the kitchen. Professor Shanazar clearly baited me into taking his test. But whatever, he called me a fucking pussy so I'm not gonna take that lightly. I was more surprised about Luigi though. It only took him 15 minutes to cook his meme. He walked out with his tablet and presented it to professor Shanazar.

"Buon Appetito, sir." Luigi handed his tablet to the professor.

"Let's see… Overly attached girlfriend meme huh? That's not something I see often anymore." Said professor Shanazar. "Why do you pick this meme, Luigi?"

"Italians pride ourselves in rich culture and history, and I want to project that through my meme. By choosing a meme that has passed its prime, I am able to uncover the richness that made it so great and present it to you again, making it a surprisingly fresh experience."

"Do you know why we don't meme with overly attached girlfriend anymore, Luigi?" Said the professor. "That's because the meme has already lost its value. This is at best a second rated meme. And you, a second rated memer, should be ashamed of it."

"But sir! The meme is clearly funny…"

"Which arm do you use to write?" The professor interrupted.

"Ah…. right arm?" Luigi answered.

"Alright, TAs, cut his right arm off."

"NOOOOOooooooooooooooomphhhhhh!" Luigi screamed as two TAs drag him out to be punished.

It took me 20 minutes later until I finished my meme. I saw Luigi with only one arm left as I walked out to submit my freshly cooked meme.

"Here you go, sir." I handed my tablet to professor Shanazar.

"It's just a blank picture with a text says 'Fuck You'." He replied.

"That's right, sir. That's what you get for calling me a fucking pussy."

"That's not even dank. You fail! Which arm do you want to be cut off?"

"Middle one." I answered as my left hand pointed toward my middle arm. I was born with three arms so cutting one off can potentially be beneficial for me. I was made fun of a lot in middle school because I have one more arm than others, but we couldn't afford a surgery to cut it off at that time.

"Sneaky bastard. I forgot that you have three arms. Alright, TAs, take him to the punishment room!" Professor Shanazar shouted and I was carried away.

The blade sliced against my middle arm slowly but brutally. It hurted so much that I screamed endlessly. I finally know what it takes to become a professional memer.


	6. Chapter 6

It has been a month since my middle arm was cut off, and my body recovered just in time for my MEME131 project. For this assignment, I need to cook a meme that's related to our homeland. That's why I'm traveling to the museum of history to draw some inspiration for my next invention. It's also a good excuse to get on a subway and explore the city once in awhile.

"Next station, Ashgabat National Museum of History... 次の駅、アシガバート歴史の国立博物館。 (lit: Tsugi no eki, ashigabāto rekishi no kokuritsu hakubutsukan)" The subway announced the next stop in two languages, signaling that I needed to get off.

Stepping into the National Museum of History made me proud to be born as a Turkmen. We are not only rich in natural resources, but also historical treasures proven by 420,000 items displayed in this building. I will surely find a good inspiration for my next piece of dank meme here.

"Welcome to the museum. Your ticket will cost 4.20 manats." Said the representative.

"Oh, I'm actually from the Culinary School of Waterloo." I replied and showed her my student card.

"My deepest apology. No need to pay sir. Please step right in and enjoy the exhibitions."

I also booked a guided tour for this trip. I grouped up with around 10 other people as our tour guide Sergej walked us around the building.

"Turkmenistan was undoubtedly in a bad shape when we declared sovereignty from the Soviet in 1991. Do you know what turned us around to become one of the richest countries in the world?" Sergej asked as we walked around the historical gallery.

"Was it the Silkroad revolution of 2058?" A young boy in my group answered.

"That's correct, kid. Though it's actually the Silkroad revolution of 2068." Said the guide. "You see, when the solar vehicle took over the world, the demand for a transportation route between China and Africa skyrocketed. That's when our glorious president started the open-door policy to allow goods to be transported between our country. We made quite a lot from the tariffs."

"But I thought the Silkroad was closed due to the Third World War?" Another person interrupted.

"Well, you are technically correct." Sergej replied. "But you have to remember that World War III happened in 2172, more than a century after the Silkroad was opened. That was around the time when the teleporter was invented too. Though we still can't teleport organisms now, we could already teleport inorganic objects by the time the war ended. That's why our industry is now mainly based on teleporting business." He continued.

"I'm sorry but your tour will have to end now." Said a man within the group. He suddenly grabbed the kid and pointed a gun at his head. "Anyone makes a noise and I'll shoot this kid!" He shouted.

Our peaceful tour in the museum suddenly turned to a crime scene. Everyone was shocked but we couldn't even say anything.

"Mr. tour guide. I want you to find the national treasure of Turkmenistan in this museum and hand it to me in 15 minutes... That's right, I'm talking about the first ever Turkmen meme, the one that was made in 2016."

"Planning to get rich from the black market huh?" Sergej replied.

"That's none of your business! Put the meme in the bag, or else I'll pop this kid's head!" The thief yelled, pointing his gun to a garbage bag.

"No! Mr. tour guide! The meme is more important than my life! Just let him kill me!" The kid yelled.

"Silly boy, as a tour guide, your life is the most important." The guide replied. "I'll get you the meme in 10 minutes, but you have to make sure that the kid is unharmed."

"STOP!" I yelled. "I'm actually from the Culinary School of Waterloo. If you really want a dank meme, then I can cook one for you!"

"Interesting…" The theft replied. "I'll give you ten minutes. If I'm satisfied with your meme, then I'll take it instead. If not, then you die."

I calmly unlocked my tablet and cooked a meme with it. I'm not even nervous or scared anymore, because I have the experience watching half of my classmates getting killed right in front of me, as well as losing my middle arm. The Culinary School of Waterloo has prepared me well for life or death situations like this. It only took 5 minutes for me to cook a meme (It looked like this: ).

"Here you go." I said while handing my tablet to him.

"Wh…. what a wonderful meme!" The theft said. His tears started dripping down through his face. "This is exactly what my mother said on her deadbed..." He continued.

The theft lost focus because he was touched by my meme, so I took the opportunity to snatch his gun and aimed it to his head.

"Enjoy your trip to hell." I said and pulled the triggered. I shot the theft, which killed his body.


End file.
